


Shattered Into Ash

by Clintbxrton



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: During Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 22:42:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2085918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clintbxrton/pseuds/Clintbxrton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you alright?”</p><p>“Yes.” <i> No. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Shattered Into Ash

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from: 'Bastille - Things We Lost In The Fire', which will forever be on my SteveBucky playlist.

_"I thought you were smaller..."_

As Bucky looked over this new man, this blond, muscular, epitome of masculinity, he thought about how it wasn’t Steve, how, if not for the eyes, he’d not even recognise him as the same, sickly man-child he had left back in Brooklyn. The man in front of him wasn’t Steve; Steve was back home, getting shot down from every army sign-up in America while pretending the coming winter didn’t strain his lungs that little bit extra. Safe. Steve was safe. 

This new man in front of him, the one who said he was Steve… he was Steve too. He was the new Steve, one that progressed through the army ranks like cutting with a knife through butter and now called himself ‘Captain America’. Bucky had heard about him, some singing bond salesman visiting troops to heighten morale. He’d never thought that could be Steve. But it was. It wasn’t the Steve he knew but Bucky had to come to terms with it because, like the guy said, it was looking kind of permanent. 

He just needed to get used to the change. Everything seemed to have transformed right before Bucky’s eyes; he'd come to fight a battle of glory and honour and now all he saw was mud; he’d left a tiny, ailing boy and now Steve was a fine cut of a man; Bucky had been brave... Now even the wind put a chill up his spine in the fear that he'd hear the cold words upon it: _Hail HYDRA._

_“Hail HYDRA.”_

Those words flooded his mind; they were every breath, every gust of wind, every whisper and he couldn’t… he’d thought they’d stop someday, stop what they were doing and let him die. He’d been so sure that he’d not be coming back from the prison camp until he saw Steve’s face at the grate, familiar and foreign.

And a big part of him wished Steve had left him there, left them to finish the job so that it would all finally go away. Bucky didn’t understand how just a day later, the survivors could celebrate like merry men, swinging tankards on the military penny and praising Steve for his service. Bucky had already done that in private, made sure that despite how he was feeling, he did appreciate Steve coming to get them. Because he _knew_ it had been for him. He _knew_ that for all Steve was a good guy, he’d just have looked at the letters sadly and left things how they were if he hadn’t known that Bucky was a part of the captured battalion. 

Bucky wondered where his letter had been addressed. Emblazoned with his name, SERGEANT BARNES, who would have received word that he was ‘MIA, presumed dead’? Steve wasn’t at home. There would have been no one there; no one to receive the letter and no one to care. 

It wasn’t that Bucky had anything against celebrating their safe return. It was just that he didn’t understand how they all had the strength to smile after all that had happened. Not unless it hadn’t happened. Had that been it? Had the pain and torture been for him alone? 

Waving for a refill of his glass, Bucky shook his head in genuine despair at the state of his own mind. He didn’t even know what he was drinking anymore.

Just for a moment, Bucky felt forgotten in his corner of the bar and a sense of ill-deserved peace came over him. Just like that, the ability to breathe was back, the ability to feel as though he was not under threat or attack and no one was going to drag him off to some torture chamber or execution line. It was a nice feeling. It lasted maybe five minutes with Bucky simply staring into the glass of random alcohol that had been placed before him while his mind wandered... Wonderful.

Wonderful until he sensed a presence beside him and the peace was shattered, something snapping in the back of his mind. Eyes blown wide, Bucky was on high alert, his hand flying for his hip where he had his knife - he’d picked up a new one as soon as he was back from the prison, wanting to make sure he was never without something to protect himself ever again - and turning on high alert to… Steve. Oh… His hand shook as it released the knife hilt and took up the glass again, lifting it as some mocking form of a toast. ”Enjoying the party?”

“You know I was never really one for parties, Buck,” Steve returned, his voice just soft enough for Bucky to know what question was coming next. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” _No._

There was nothing more that could be said. Bucky could see him, itching to ask again, to point out that he knew it wasn’t true, to accuse him of bold faced lying. But Steve knew better than that. He seemed… older. Steve just seemed to _know_ now that Bucky just didn’t want to talk about what had happened and wasn’t going to pressure him into it. And the hand Bucky let settle on Steve’s thigh was just enough to tell him he appreciated the quiet.

He’d open up in his own time. Right now, Bucky just wanted to close his eyes and forget all about it and pray that for just one night, he wouldn’t be jarred awake anyway by the thought of the cell. He didn’t realise how quiet he had been until Steve’s voice cut in again. “Come on, Buck… let’s get you home.”

Home… Bucky snorted at the thought; home was Brooklyn with the bright street lights and double dates with Steve and a couple of nice looking dames. Home wasn’t the one-man tent he had left to his name, not even big enough to put his boots beside him. Once upon a time, he thought, Steve probably could have squeezed in with him anyway. Not like this. Now that Steve was bigger, they weren’t going to fit in a tiny army-grade tent. Unless…

“Bet yours is bigger.”

And once Steve had recovered from the innuendo he'd accidentally found in those words, he led Bucky across to show that yes, his _was_ slightly bigger. After all, he was technically a ‘Captain’. 

Bucky went quiet, looking back at his own tent for a long moment because really he should be back there, facing the night terrors alone like a man or laying awake to listen to the wind whispering _hail HYDRA._ “Hey… You remember when your mom died? How I came over and spent the night?” He glanced up, just to check on Steve’s reaction before he continued. “How we didn’t talk about bein’ upset and just went to sleep and then in the morning, we didn’t talk about that either?”

Steve nodded, smiling weakly. “Yeah, Buck. I remember.”

“Well?”

Steve smiled and quietly removed his boots, leaving them outside the tent and tucked his socks inside. The shirt came off next, folded neatly by the side. As an effort to be modest, Steve kept his pants on. Bucky had stopped with removing his boots and socks. The moment he reached for his shirt, the panic started, heavy breathing, remembering the litter of white lines across his skin, white and red - most were still healing. No, he wasn’t ready to show Steve the scars. He wasn’t ready to see them himself. So he crawled after him into the tent, saying nothing as he found something else that had changed; he was the little spoon now. It was nice… For the first time, he felt truly safe with this new Steve. 

“Missed this,” he mumbled softly. 

Steve nuzzled closer, “Missed you.”

“You’re sweet.” At least that hadn’t changed. Steve was a sap, had always been a sap and it would seem, would forevermore be a sap. As his eyes closed, Bucky let his worries go, only just conscious to hear his reply. 

“Yeah? I’ve always been sweet on you, Buck.”


End file.
